Ah, spring—and how it so naturally, effortlessly inspires poetry! Here's one that arrived just this morning, as I was gazing out my south-facing window, through tender branches, to the majesty of Bear Peak and the Flatirons on the western horizon ... Spring's warm-cool quiet potency: leaf-buds like green haiku, unfolding ... * …
Elizabeth’s Blog
There Is But One
Easter Rise heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him mayst rise: That, as his death calcined thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and much more just. Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art. The cross taught all wood to resound his name, Who bore the same. His stretched sinews taught …
The Rhythm of My Heart
Please Call Me By My True Names Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow — even today I am still arriving. Look deeply: every second I am arriving to be a bud on a Spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings, learning to sing in my new nest, to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone. I still arrive, in order to laugh and to …
Worship
You Yourself have become the sky. You are the earth, wind, fire, water, day, and night. The flowers and other objects of worship spring from You. I long to worship You but find nothing that is not You. With what, then, can I perform my puja? ~ Lalleshwari * …
Practice Notes: On The Trail
An Abundance of Trails Boulder is known for its abundance of hiking trails—up into the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, or further east for flatter terrain. Mount Sanitas, Shanahan Ridge and the Anne U. White trail are among my current favorites; and I’ve visited them even more often over the past year, with outdoor activities considered among the safest. Some trails are loops. Some are …
The Round Jubilance
From Blossoms From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches we bought from the boy at the bend in the road where we turned toward signs painted Peaches. From laden boughs, from hands, from sweet fellowship in the bins, comes nectar at the roadside, succulent peaches we devour, dusty skin and all, comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. O, to take what we love …